


Cullen and Inquisitor Fluff

by astra_romaine



Series: Sent by Gods (working title) [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Caretaking, Cold, F/M, Fainting, Fluff, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29276781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astra_romaine/pseuds/astra_romaine
Summary: A collection of scenes between the Commander and my Inquisitor, Irian
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Series: Sent by Gods (working title) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813630
Kudos: 7





	1. Wearing Each Other's Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Herald is starting to recover from Haven, but Cullen can't shake the guilt he feels over what happened. It doesn't help that he seems to feel so strongly about her.

Cullen sat alone by one of the fires as he finished the broth from that evening’s soup. Beginning the journey to Skyhold was proving to be arduous for the already beaten Inquisition, but at least the Herald had lived. At least she was well enough to be walking now; walking straight towards him with a bundle in her arms.

He hadn’t seen her since the night she finally awoke from her injuries. The only image Cullen could conjure when he thought of her was that of her bruised body lying on the cot. All he could remember was how cold she had felt, the lack of weight to her form, the feeling of her bony fingers digging into the warmth of his neck. She looked much better now.

“May I join you, Commander?”

She had regained much of the colour in her face, enough that she at least looked flushed from the wind and the snow.

“Yes,” he said, shifting so there was room.

She knelt next to him and held out the bundle. It was his cloak.

“Thank you for this. I’m sure you’ve missed it though- it’s very warm.” Her voice sounded gravelly and quiet, but he was just glad she was getting better.

He put down his bowl and took the cloth from her arms. Her forearms were bare, and he caught sight of a small bruise along the inside. Why weren’t her sleeves long enough?

“What happened?” He asked, stroking the discoloured skin with his thumb, partially as an excuse to feel her temperature.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, “I must have bumped it on something.”

“Did you see a healer?”

“No, it’s just a bruise,” she laughed a little uncomfortably, but Cullen couldn’t break his fixation.

Why had it taken her sacrifice for them to realise how much they needed her? He moved his gaze up her arm to her left shoulder- the bad one. She still had scratches along her neck, marks from all the pain she must have been in.

“I don’t want you to be hurt,” he whispered.

“I’m not,” she said, her eyes locked with his.

“Were you cold in Haven?” he asked. He had spent a long winter travelling before he was eventually sent to Kirkwall. Those nights he had shivered himself to sleep and awoken chilled to the bone. He still had pain in his joints on particularly cold nights, and always wore an extra layer in the winter.

“Hmm?” she said, leaning down to look at his face. “Commander, are you alright?”

“Irian,” he asked, “How can you keep coming back to us? After everything that’s happened, everything we’ve done?”

“Have you ever had rats, Commander?” she grinned, “You never get rid of them- they always come back.”

Cullen resented that. “You’re not a rat, Irian... you’re a person.”

Why had it taken all this pain for him to realise how much they had neglected her- were neglecting her. Why did she have to scavenge for food? Why did she have to steal blankets? Why didn’t she have a cloak of her own?

“I think you should keep this for now,” Cullen said. He draped his cloak around her shoulders and fastened it tight.

“Are you sure, Commander? You look strange without it.”

He didn’t know what compelled him to- maybe his own guilt or her sardonic sense of humour- but he slid his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. She felt stronger now than before, but he could feel the muscles along her side shaking as she shivered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and her hand rubbed up and down his back in response. Maker, how could he let himself treat her so lowly? How could he allow those rumours of her bad intentions to proliferate? All those lies about her speaking in tongues or evil Tevinter rituals…

“Herald?” called a voice.

“Stay,” Cullen said desperately, holding her tighter. He just wanted her to be warm for once.

“O-Okay,” she whispered.

He knew it was a mistake. How long was he allowed to hug her for? What if someone saw them like this? How was he going to let go?

“It’s, uh, probably one of the scouts looking for me,” Irian said.

“Right, of course.” Cullen pulled back. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“No,” Irian smiled and stood up, “Don’t be. The last few days have been rough on everyone.”

Cullen nodded as she started to leave. It was just stress catching up to him; she was right. Irian was always right. And he would let her keep his cloak forever if it meant she was safe.


	2. Sickfic

Cullen was seated at his desk, working. He had been avoiding Irian ever since she got back to Skyhold, and today was her last day before she had to leave again. She held a couple of papers she had grabbed as an excuse to go see him, but she forgot her whole premise when she saw how ragged he looked.

“Cullen…”

He glanced up and cleared his throat- or was he coughing?

“Inquisitor. Is there something I can help with?”

“Are you serious?” she whispered as she leaned over his desk, “I haven’t seen you all week. Why are you avoiding me?”

Cullen pushed his chair back a bit and took a deep breath. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“You haven’t slept with me all week, I haven’t seen you at meals- Maker, Cullen, is it because you’re sick?”

“I’m not sick,” he denied. Irian glanced at the soldier in the corner of his office, but they only shrugged and went back to sorting through reports.

Cullen sighed. “I was busy. It got late and I slept here because I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Then stop working so late,” Irian said, “Look at yourself; you need a break.” At least he wasn’t wearing his armour. Irian had told him time and time again that he was going to hurt his back wearing it all day.

“I just need some time alone.”

“That better be all, Cullen. I don’t want you to be sick.”

“I’m fine,” he promised, seemingly unaware of Irian’s worry.

She pursed her lips but didn’t press him any further. “We have a meeting tonight.”

“I’m aware.”

“Can I walk you to it?”

“Isn’t that further for you?”

“It would make me feel better.”

“Fine,” he conceded, “Meet you here?”

Irian adjusted the parchment she was holding and started to leave his office.

“Irian?” he called after her and she turned around. “I love you,” he offered. Irian frowned; she got the feeling he wasn’t taking this seriously.

“I love you, too,” she said before leaving.

* * *

“Where is she?” Leliana asked.

“I don’t know,” Cullen answered, “It isn’t like her to be so late.”

They were waiting in Josephine’s office before a war council. Irian always liked to have one the evening before she left so that they could address last minute concerns.

“She’s probably just held up talking to someone,” Josephine said.

“Should we start, then?” Leliana asked, “There’s more to go through than usual.”

The door to Josephine’s office creaked open and a flustered Irian walked in carrying a stack of papers.

“There you are,” she said, looking at Cullen, “I’ve- You were here?”

“We have a meeting.” He said in confusion.

“I know, but you were- you left everything in your office- all your reports- and we were supposed to…” Cullen was flushed with embarrassment and Josephine and Leliana looked confused. “Never mind,” Irian said handing half of her stack to Cullen, “Let’s just get started.”

The meeting dragged on and on as every problem they addressed brought up a new batch of things to squabble about. Josephine kept lighting more candles and it seemed like there were more map markers than they had started with- each one with its own report tacked under it.

Josephine was finishing explaining why they couldn’t afford more uniforms, and that the Inquisition would have to make do for now; Irian concurred absent-mindedly as she went over a separate report with Leliana. Cullen leaned down to sign the bottom of Josephine’s memo and knocked over the ink well.

“Shit!” he said, earning an eyebrow raise from Leliana. “It’s too dark,” he defended, “How am I supposed to see?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Irian said picking up the bottle, “It was almost empty anyways.”

“Commander, are you feeling quite all right?” Josephine asked.

“What? I knocked over an ink well, I’m fine.”

“You do look pale,” Leliana mused.

“Did Irian put you up to this?”

“No,” Irian said, “Anyone can see you aren’t feeling well.” She had a worried expression on her face that made Cullen soften his stance.

“I’m okay,” he said, but she didn’t believe him.

“Come here.” Irian lowered her voice and reached up to touch his forehead, “You have a fever, love, why don’t you go rest?”

“I don’t need to rest,” he said at a regular volume.

“Go on, Commander,” Leliana said, “We are almost finished.”

“If we’re almost finished, why don’t I just stay till the end?” He reasoned and tried to shake Irian’s hands off his arms.

“Cullen, please,” Irian whispered, “I’ll be up in a few minutes, okay?”

He sighed and looked down at her worried eyes. “Okay. For you, Irian.”

She slid her hands down and lightly squeezed his fingers, then watched as he retreated from the War Room.

“How long has he been like this?” Irian turned back to face the other two.

“A few days before you got back?” Leliana said.

“We assumed he would go to a healer on his own,” Josephine said, “Or at least tell you.”

Irian ran her hands through her hair. “Why is he like this?”

Josephine cleared her throat, “Should we get started again?”

Irian sighed and leaned over the table again when a call came from outside.

“Ambassador!”

Irian followed Josephine out of the War Room and into her office, where an attendant stood frozen in shock next to a crumpled body on the floor.

“Cullen!” Irian cried and rushed to kneel next to him. “Sweetheart, are you okay? What happened?”

He only groaned in response.

“He- he just fell! I didn’t even notice until I heard the-”

“Fetch a healer!” Josephine commanded and the attendant nodded frantically before rushing out of the office.

“Cullen?”

“Irian?” he whispered.

“Yes, Maker, yes. Do you know where you are?”

“I’m with you.”

Irian let out a fast breath, “Do you know where that is?

“It must be heaven,” he said fluttering his eyes.

“He is delirious!” Leliana exclaimed.

“What do I do?” Irian asked.

“We should get him off the floor,” Josephine said.

“Right, right,” Irian nodded and shuffled around his body so she could hook her arms under his legs and back. Leliana moved to help lift him, but Irian pressed her shoulder against the wall and slid into a standing position with him cradled in her arms.

Irian heard the other two suppressing a snicker at the sight of her awkwardly carrying the Commander of the Inquisition forces over to a sofa and setting him down like a child. Cullen would probably be embarrassed if he had his wits about him.

She tried to push some pillows beneath him, but he didn’t seem to care much about how he was laid. Irian put a hand on his cheek and turned him to face her.

“Josephine’s office?”

Irian nodded and brushed some of the hair off his face. He was sweaty from the fever and had a red mark forming near his temple.

“Cullen, you could have really hurt yourself when you fell,” she said.

“M’okay,” he murmured, “Don’t worry.”

“Oh, Cullen,” she whispered and pressed her lips to his cheek, “Sweetheart, stop making me worry.”

The healer pushed his way into the room and set himself down beside the sofa. Irian shifted around the side so that she was kneeling between the wall and the armrest and stroking Cullen’s cheek while she watched the healer work.

“What exactly happened?” he asked as he started to poke at Cullen’s body.

“Noth-”

“He fell,” Irian interrupted.

“Any loss of consciousness?”

“Any what?”

“No.” Cullen insisted.

“A persistent cough? Aches or fatigue? Fever?”

“He has a fever and-”

“I’m fine; there’s nothing-”

Irian held his chin and leaned over him. “Stop it,” she said firmly.

“I don’t want him touching me,” he whispered.

The healer started feeling beneath Cullen’s armpits and then pressed along his neck.

“What exactly are you looking for?” Irian asked as she gripped Cullen’s hand.

“Signs of an infection.”

“And are there?” she said worriedly.

The healer cleared his throat. “Has his appetite been normal?”

“I don’t know,” Irian said, glancing at Josephine and Leliana for input, “He looks skinnier than normal, doesn’t he?”

“And he recently stopped taking lyrium?”

“Oh, Maker,” Irian said, “It’s from…? Is he going to die?”

The healer dug around in the bag he brought and took out a small vial with greenish liquid in it.

“This is just a tincture for common sicknesses. He’ll take one a day until his humours rebalance. The lyrium withdrawal has left him more susceptible to disease; any added stress or sleeping issues have only compounded that. But the Commander is otherwise healthy. Provided he rests sufficiently and keeps to a healthy regimen, I would expect a full recovery. In time.”

“See, Irian?” Cullen tipped his head back to look at her, but she ignored him.

“Do you have anything for a cough?”

“Yes,” the healer said, “I can have my assistant deliver a poultice to his quarters.”

“Er, send them to mine,” Irian said.

“Of course, Inquisitor,” the healer stood and prepared to leave. “I trust you’ll make sure he drinks this?”

Irian nodded as he left and finally turned her attention to Cullen. He was smiling up at her with a dazed expression in his eyes. Irian let out a sigh of relief and shifted back around the sofa so that she could pull his head against her torso.

“It’s awfully late,” Cullen said, “You should be asleep, Irian, you have to travel tomorrow.”

“Sweetheart I’m not going anywhere tomorrow.” Irian reached for the vial, “I’m not leaving when you’re like this.”

Cullen hummed as he nuzzled into the crook of her arm, obviously hoping for that answer.

“Hey,” she said softly, “Sit up, okay?”

Cullen squinted at the tincture and held it up to the light before knocking it back and groaning.

“That’s disgusting.”

Irian plucked the empty bottle from his hand again and pressed her hand against his hot cheek.

“I can stay with you?” Cullen asked.

“Yes,” she answered, kissing his forehead.

“Will you carry me again?”

“How is she going to get you up all those stairs?” Leliana laughed.

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen half-shouted in surprise and tried to hide himself behind Irian. “I thought they left.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Irian soothed.

“I don’t want them to see-” he dropped his voice to a whisper so only Irian could hear it, “I don’t want them to see the way you baby me.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind giving us some privacy?” Irian tilted her head.

Leliana laughed again and Josephine giggled, but they left Irian and Cullen alone in the office.

“Do you still want me to carry you? It’s too late for there to be anyone in the main hall- no one will see, I promise.”

“No, I can walk.”

“Okay,” Irian whispered and stopped stroking his head, “Come on then, you can at least lean on me.”

[ooooo]

Cullen was tucked into Irian’s bed while she busily rushed around digging out extra blankets and making sure the fire was crackling then subsequently opening the balcony doors so that a breeze came through. Cullen laid quietly and watched until someone announced their presence and left a jar by the railing.

“Do you want this now?” Irian asked.

“What is it?”

She twisted the jar around and inspected it. “Erm, a poultice. For your cough- it goes on your chest.”

“Will you do it?”

Irian smiled, “Yes, Cullen.”

She sat behind him and let him lean against her torso. He sniffed and pushed himself further upright as she peeled his shirt up to expose his chest and stomach. Irian ran her hand along his ribs, which were more prominent than usual, before dipping her hand into the poultice.

His body felt hot against her cold hand, and it was red and flushed with fever. Cullen tipped his head back and laid on Irian’s shoulder while she spread the thick cream in wide circles. His mouth was open, and he seemed completely blissed out by the experience.

“Do you like this?” she asked.

“Your hand feels nice,” he breathed.

“You don’t have to be sick for us to do this, sweetie,” Irian whispered, “I’ll always take care of you.”

“I know,” he whispered.

Irian wiped her hand on Cullen’s stomach and leaned over to place the jar on the bedside table then rolled his shirt back down. She pushed him up and readjusted her legs so that she was straddling him more comfortably.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart, you’ve had a long night.”

“You’ll stay?”

“Yeah,” she reassured him, “I’ll stay with you.”

Cullen pressed his forehead against Irian’s cheek, and she rubbed her hand up and down his arm. He snuggled further into the blankets and bedded closer to Irian while she whispered sweet nothings into his ear until his weariness finally dragged him under.


End file.
